The gifted killer
by Zephyr Blackwind
Summary: When a halfbreed Blademaster from the Horde is sent to investigate a series of brutal murders within the very territory that the Horde controls. Missing bodies, blurring fights, and odd companions awaits on his journey.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclamer _**

_I do not own anything in the Blizzard line of ownership, nor do i own the characters that may appear in it. However, i do own my characters, and a banana cream pie..._

**Chapter 1 **

Aden Ti'Marieal sighed softly, as he walked out of the burnt and ruined house in the wilderness. His long and black swept back hair was held in a loose braid behind him. Only a few strands fell in front of his cold and emotionless blue eyes. A gift from his human mother, along with the light tan of his skin. His features were slightly guant, and his face resembled that of an orc from Kalimdor. He was a little taller than most, his body was just barely crossing the line from lithe too overmuscled. His ears were both pierced, large golden hoops from the now extinct Deathspear Troll tribes hung from his lobes. Under his left eye, he held a scar large enough to encompass the lower lid, and trail down to the bottom of his cheek.

He was dressed in a loose black outfit, From the heavy black boots on his feet, to the black tanned Tauren hide that he wore fashioned into a pair of pants. He wore no actual shirt, but a black vest tanned from the same hide. A tightfitting undershirt of mesh made from a fishing net clung lightly to his body, hanging just barely over his fingers. On his hands, he wore a cold blue-steel metal guantlet on his left, and a black leather on his right, again made from tauren hide.

At his waist he wore a metal-plated swordbelt, which hung comfortably on one hip. Angled behind his back, he wore an old Blademasters sword, just one of two. Its notched blade had seen years of combat before it finally fell form its owners cold and lifeless fingers. It was in his mentors name, that he honored the hordes leader, even as he sided with the Forsaken. That, in Aden's mind, was a dishonorable thing to do. It was bad enough, siding with the demons back in the Hordes original homeland, but now they were allied with the dead and the damned. If Aden's mentor was still alive, he would have objected to it. That was why Aden was here, inspecting one of the many crispy ruins of a house. He had stepped into his role, and voice his opinon.

The weary leader of the orcs had no time to listen to the voice of what both sounded and looked like a child half-breed. And instead, had put him to use in other matters: Finding the ones who were responsible for the brutal killings in Horde territory.

Of course, his duty to Thrall came before all else, as his Mentor had taught him. So thats why he was here, at one of the newer destroyed houses, trying to find some track of the fiends behind this. His brow was furrowed in thought, as he walked slowly from the broken front door, his head lowered and looking at the ground carefully. Of course, he found nothing at all of his prey, but he did find the footdprints of what looked like a small child. And they were leading off somewhere else.

He had seen the footprints earlier, but he wanted to thoroughly check the house first. He found nothing, pools of hot blood, and fire. But he found no bodies.

With a soft sigh, he held the handle of his sword to keep it from hitting the back of his knee's, and took off in a light run in the direction to find the owner of these tracks.

_ I know, it's short..._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclamer **_

_I don't own anything in blizzard, honestly, I don't, all my stocks are in playboy…_

**chapter 2**

Aden was running, he _had_ been running for well over a mile now. And while it really didn't bother him too much, he really didn't want to be running. As his gaze occasionally shifted down to the slowly fading gaze of footprints, he wondered why this was much of a bother to him at all. After all, he knew where it would bring him, he had been this way just a day or two before. Of course, then he wasn't looking for tracks.

And, of course, he didn't want to be in a graveyard this time of night. When he looked up, he could just make out the faint outlines of several tombstones and crypts. Not for the first time he wondered if the undead of the horde might have a hand in this. He slowed down well before he was within sight of the entrance gate, and reached behind him to his sword and loosened it so it would pull free. He took a small moment to look around the area, and wasn't all that surprised to see a couple faint traces of blight lying around.

Slowly, he crept closer. His hand stayed o the hilt of the sword, ready to be drawn and in turn, draw blood. Of course, that was only If he needed to. His lips curled up in a small smirk, as he anticipated the moment when he entered a battle. He lived for it, he thrived on it. He needed it to stay sane. He could smell the usual graveyard smell. The scent of long dead corpses slowly pushed up from the many years of rain. He could smell the tainted soil that houses the dead.

He paused a moment, before looking into the graveyard. Of course, he saw nothing. He looked in and saw the graveyard as it was supposed to be, unbothered, and uncorrupted. Of course, when one can here the faint chinks of metal and the slow bone on bone noises whenever nothing in the graveyard moved. HE thought something was up. Add to that the faint trace of mana in the air.

As quietly as he could, he let himself slip into the light tingling sensation of the wind-walk. He loved the feeling he got whenever he activated it, the feeling of being completely encompassed and taken to a different center of being. Of course, he was no warlock or wizard, so he didn't have a full understanding. But he could manage. Now invisible, and walking at a brisk pace, he stepped through the front gates of the graveyard.

Instantly, he saw what he thought he suspected. There were a small group of bone skeletons there, each one armed and equipped with a sword and armor. Each one looking like it had been out of the ground for at least a couple of days.

_Makes sense really…_Aden thought lightly to himself. _The random killings had been going on for a while now…_

He looked down at the ground, his gaze down at the small tracks. They had almost vanished now, it seemed more like whoever it was dragged in a limp manner. Slowly, he crept along as he made his way through the small group of undead warriors. His footsteps seemed loud to him, but if they noticed, they were hiding it pretty damned good. And skeletons were not known for their intelligence.

A faint sound, almost to faint to be heard above the somewhat quiet movements of the undead, caught his ears. His head turned quickly but quietly. Now that he could hear it, it seemed unnaturally loud. Of course, he WAS the only living person their, and their was no guarantee that the dead could hear the same way as the living. Slowly, he made his way through the tombstones, his wind-walk still in effect.

He looked for the source of the gasping sound, but couldn't find anything, he heard the noise, and there was a small chance that it was getting quieter…almost as if it was slowly dying away. Of course, this deep in a cemetery that couldn't be a good thing if the person was living prior to an hour ago. He would have made a more thorough check, if he hadn't suddenly felt…weird, almost like he didn't fit there. His ears started ringing lightly, not to much to seriously bother him, but enough to irritate him a little.

He blinked lightly, something felt different…he felt like his mana was being drained from him, like using his wind-walking ability was too almost too much for him to bear. Of course, he didn't know what was going on, all he knew, was that when he could look down at himself and SEE himself, he knew something was wrong. Then, he was invisible again.

_What the hell…!_ He thought, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Of course, the first time it happened, no one had. But the second time he blinked in and out of existence, the skeletons turned and stared. And by the third time, he was cursing his luck. "Well…that's just great…" He muttered, as he finally quit blinking in and out. His eyes glanced upwards at the skeletons for a moment. And he knew that he wasn't in any real trouble. If they had a necromancer with them THEN he might be in some kind of trouble.

"Well well…what have we here…?" A somewhat raspy but still living voice croaked out from behind one of the tombstones.

Aden cursed his luck as he looked up at the robed figure with a skull on his head. "Well then…" He muttered softly as slowly pulled out his sword. It made a soft _shing_ as it came free. It's edge, even though notched, still shone with a small trace of power.

_**Ah-hah! **Cliffhanger…can you deal with it..?_


End file.
